A Choice of the Devil
by StarlitWave10
Summary: Greg has got himself a crush. But will he receive her love in return?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: CSI belongs to Anthony Zuiker**

The lights were off in the break room when Catherine looked into it. Day shift was getting ready to leave in the locker room, and no one besides her was here from the night shift. Except maybe Brass. But then again, he seemed to live at PD. Hell, he's even got a bottle of Scotch stocked away in his cupboard somewhere, along with two glasses. A small smile manifested itself onto Catherine's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Leaving the lights off, she continued towards her office, but kept the lights off when she entered it. She sat down in her chair, it molding perfectly to her body, as it always had.

A sigh escaped her lips as she eased into it, the pain in her lower back subsiding. Her eyes had closed sometime between her entering the office and the sigh, but she couldn't remember when. All she could think of was when Grissom left a couple years back, how separated the team had been. She couldn't do that to them again, even if they are more stable as a team now than back then. Nick would make a great supervisor, along with Ray as his right-hand man. Six months earlier, she would've chosen Greg as the assistant, but with what's happened… she wouldn't be surprised if he ended up quitting before her. He was an excellent CSI, but after what he'd been through, Catherine wouldn't blame him if he decided he couldn't do this job anymore.

"Excuse me, Catherine," intruded upon her thoughts. Almost involuntarily, and very slowly, she opened her eyes to look into the ever-smirking face of Hodges, except he was looking rather curiously at her, probably because she looked like she was taking a nap. Why was it no surprise that he was here as early as she was?

"Just wanted to say good morning. Or, it would probably be more appropriate to say good night, as we are the night shift, but"-

"I get it, Hodges. Now get to work," Catherine said with more bitterness than she had hoped for. With a small frown on his face, Hodges opened his mouth to speak yet again, but his supervisor help up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Not now, Hodges. Don't you have some trace to analyze?" This time, the bitterness was not accidental.

Obviously not expecting this retort, Hodges mumbled something about the darkness affecting one's mood and walked off. Catherine closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable in her chair again, but no position felt right. Cursing Hodges's impromptu interruption, she stood up and walked over to the light switch near the door. Nick passed by her office, throwing her a casual wave and a smile before yelling a greeting to Ray down the hall. Wendy was getting settled in her lab and looked to be talking to Hodges across the hall. Leaning up against the doorframe, Catherine saw Greg enter the break room, a smile on his face like old times. Her lips curled up at the ends, and a few teeth popped up into the open. This time it stayed there, despite the news she had to break to the team. Grabbing the night's assignments, Catherine headed over to the now brightly-lit break room. The lights in her office remained off.

**If ya'll like it, please review! Mind you, updates are probably going to be few and far apart, but I'll do my best to give you guys a good chapter each time! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**CSI belongs to Anthony Zuiker. **

**OMG! Sophomore teachers give WAY more homework than I expected. Well, swimming every day doesn't help with my schedule, but I love it; what can you do?**

**Anyways, here's the second chapter of A Choice of the Devil. From here on, dates will be written at the beginning of each part.**

_Six months earlier…_

5/4/11

Catherine walked into the break room with the assignments, a slight smirk on her face as she sees her team teasing their youngest about his latest crush.

"Oh, come _on_, guys. I don't have a crush on her!" He was practically whining.

"Oh, come on now, Greggo. You were practically _drooling _when you saw her. I swear, if you opened your mouth to ask her a question, a flood would've probably come out."

Greg's face flushed a dark shade of red as the others laughed at Nick's comment. Even Catherine couldn't help herself and grinned broadly.

"Did you find yourself another stripper, Greg?" She asked, barely able to contain her laughter. Greg shot her a look, but he himself couldn't keep his mouth from curling slightly.

"First off, Ellen was a _burlesque dancer. _Second, this woman, who I was _not _drooling over, Nicky, is a professor at UNLV." With this said, Greg leaned back confidently into his chair.

"But wasn't your burlesque dancer posing as a school teacher?"

At this, Greg's smile slipped off his face as he leaned forward and looked at the ground, speechless. His face turned even redder, if that was possible. He mumbled something incoherent.

"What was that?" Nick leaned closer in his chair, one hand cupped over his ear, his smile threatening to split his face. Greg mumbled once again, and this time Nick leaned over so far, he was sitting dangerously on the edge of his chair.

"Could you repeat that one more time, Greggo?"

Greg sighed and looked up, his face as red as ever and his mouth curling up slightly even though he was trying his hardest to prevent a smile. "I said you're right, happy? I seem to have a thing for teachers. But I know this one's not a dancer. She's got a bookshelf filled with Stephen King, for God's sake!" Throughout this small rant, Greg waved his hands around ardently, as if those motions would help convince his friends.

"Allright, playtime's over. We believe you, Greg. Come on now, we've all got cases to work." Catherine said with a very stern look at Nick, who merely threw her a cheeky smile. Greg mouthed a silent 'thank you' over to her.

"Greg and Nick, how's your 420?"

Nick instantly lost his smile and became serious. "We have no suspects, but we were able to interview some people where he worked, UNLV." He threw a sly glance over at Greg before turning back to Catherine. "Doc said the COD was blunt force trauma with a slightly rounded object. We want to go back to the victim's office to see if there was anything he could have been hit with."

Catherine nodded for them to get to work and turned to Sara. "You've got an arson over at 5 South Durango Drive." Sara gave Catherine a nod before heading out.

"What've you got for me, Catherine?" Ray asked.

"You have got a 401 with me, a hit and run."

"Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: CSI belongs to Anthony Zuiker**

_Later that day…_

When the word 'fire' is said, people tend to think of Hell, a burning pit of anguish and misery. That was exactly what the house looked like when Sara got to it. Smoke rose from the blackened remains of what once had been a striking two-story house, a place of love and friendship. Now all it represented was a crime scene and a place of death.

Sara looked upon the wreckage with an emotionless eye, just like Grissom had taught her. _Stay objective; don't become emotionally involved, _he constantly told her. Even as her husband, he still discussed her crime scene procedures with her, making sure that she becomes an even better CSI than she had been before, than he even was. A small smile appeared on her face as she thought of all the 'lessons' he had given her over the years.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. This was a place of working, not daydreaming about happy memories that you wish could be happening at that very moment.

Tendrils of smoke curled around her black shoes as she stepped into what used to be a house, her eyes watering slightly. The hot Nevada sun burned into her dark hair and she wiped her forehead with her arm.

She instantly berated herself for being annoyed at this heat after what the victim had to go through. There he was, lying on the stretcher and being carried hurriedly away towards the ambulance. What was left of his chest Sara could see was rising barely, mostly due to the oxygen mask covering the bottom of his face. She quickly turned away; even with the amount of death she had seen, seeing someone alive who looked like they had just come out of an oven well-done still sent a shudder through her. For the cameras, though, Sara put on an impassive face and began photographing the crime scene.

What was supposed to be a normal hit and run brought back a stream of memories for Catherine. A man, lying on the sidewalk and from a distance it looked like a car had done it. The first person she thought of was Greg. It had been four years, but some people never forget. What's worse, however, is if people remember only parts.

She could already overhear some people talking behind the tape.

"Hey, this reminds me of what happened a few years back, when that police officer hit a black kid."

"Yeah, but I heard that the kid had tried to hit him first."

"The officer was in a SUV! Why would the kid try to hit him first?"

"The entire force is racist, from what I've seen. Do you remember when a Latino boy got shot by an officer 'cause he looked like one of the guys they were chasing?"

"Actually, that boy was shot by one of the criminals so that he could take his bike."

"Alright, maybe, but still…"

Catherine ground her teeth but kept her eyes on the body. He was splayed, with his arms at his sides like an eagle's wings preparing for flight. A little blood had leaked out of his mouth, suggesting internal bleeding…

_Bruises dotted his face, although the medics had stabilized him there was still blood on his mouth…_

Catherine shook her head. Greg was fine; he was with Nick at the college, hopefully getting some good information from the employees.

"Hey Catherine, are you alright?"

That was Ray. Of course, he had only some vague information of what had occurred, the incident probably didn't even come to mind for him. Sure that if Greg wanted to he would tell Ray himself, Catherine merely answered with a nod of her head.

Ray smiled and turned back to the body. "Direction of his body suggests that he was crossing the road when the car came from…" At this he turned and looked behind himself. "…From that direction."

Catherine turned and looked at the ground. Sure enough, a few feet up ahead, skid marks colored the ground.

"Well…" Catherine began, "it looks like he had specifically accelerated at this point, but that might have been because of the stoplight." As she turned and looked at the darkened stoplight, her mouth widened into a smile. "And a stoplight…means a camera."

The University of Las Vegas is a flowing river of students spread out over 358 acres. A mere minute after the shrill bell alerts them of a short span of freedom, the campus is silent once more. The classes, however, are buzzing with discussions and sounds of any vocal range and capacity.

In one of these so-called classes, a woman by the name of Jolie Swanson was talking to her class about 1984 by George Orwell and how it is a satire on the vanished communistic era of the Soviet Union. Her students, however, were not the only ones mesmerized by her words. A man stood by the doorway, leaning against it casually as if this was an every-day occurrence. His shaggy blond hair fell into his eyes, giving him his nickname, Shaggy, but he didn't dare move his hands so much as an inch to fix it for fear of disturbing her. But on this particular day, good fortune did not look upon him with much kindness, for Nick and Greg stepped beside him and into Jolie's classroom, disrupting her usual routine.

The entire class fixated their gaze on these two strange men wearing casual clothes and a vest with their last name on it. Jolie, however, gave a nod of recognition, but her eyes had lost their sparkle.

"Allright, class dismissed, I'll see you all tomorrow."

Murmuring slightly, the class departed, giving the two CSI's strange and confused looks. Jolie, however, gave them both a bit of a sad smile.

"Are you two back for more evidence?"

Greg opened his mouth to say something, but Nick quickly answered, knowing that his colleague would most likely say whatever came into his head first…and the consequences were not pleasant. Nonetheless, he could see why Greg was head-over-heels for this woman. Long, wavy chestnut hair that had tints of blond in it when the sun hit them just right; blue eyes that sparkled and had flecks of gold sprinkled in them; long legs, but impressive calves, and to top it all off her fashion sense was very appealing. Not to mention her literary knowledge, and hadn't she mentioned something yesterday about a Master's in biology…

Clearing his throat, Nick began, "Yes, we've come back to look for something that can help us with the case."

"Then may I ask why you came to me?"

"We found your prints in his office where he was killed. Can you explain that?"

Jolie bit her lip and looked away. Greg stared at her, then muttered to Nick, "I'm gonna go see if I can find anything else at the crime scene."

Finally, she said, "Yes, I was in his office that night, but not for the reasons you think." Nick stood, silently urging her to go on. Jolie swallowed, but hesitantly continued. "Mickey was…well, he was like a brother to me. More so than my actual brother, who tried to run away from home twice a week, and was merely lying in bed doing nothing the other five days." She paused, and took a deep breath.

"Mickey was a nice guy; I don't know who could have hurt him."

Nick nodded. If he had a nickel for every time someone said that phrase, he would be richer than Bill Gates right now.

He turned to go, but stopped as he heard a faint argument coming from an office. The victim's office. He was able to get Greg's voice out of it, but the other one he couldn't place. Nick heard a gasp come from behind, and was surprised to see Jolie's mouth open and her eyes open wide in a look of pure shock.

"It's Shaggy." She whispered. "He's in there arguing with your CSI, he's got anger management issues, you'd better go-"

Before she was done, a crash resonated throughout the hallway.

**I am SOOOO sorry this took so long! I'm just trying to manage my time, but unfortunately that means that I only have time to write on the weekends. I hope the next chapter won't take as long as I have an idea of where it's going. Thank you so much to LeggoMyGreggo411 for favoriting my story and reviewing!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sara stared at the photos of the scene, but her mind was drawing a blank at the moment. The fire had burned down most of the building, leaving practically nothing salvageable behind. There had been a partially burned photograph of the victim and a girl, but Sara had had no luck so far in identifying her.

The brunette sighed and put her head in her hands. Maybe she should go take a coffee break, maybe steal some of Greg's Blue Hawaiian while he was out at UNLV. After a long day of very little progress, it was a good thing to keep you going…

Yes, Sara decided. A little coffee couldn't hurt. Just a few feet to the break room, fifteen minutes for coffee, and then back to work. But before she could take two steps away from the table, an arrogant voice stopped her.

"Yes, Catherine, I identified the substance found on your vic's body. It was a mixture of kerosene, range oil, coal oil, and Jet - Aviation fuel."

"So…gasoline?" Catherine confirmed.

"Precisely."

"But how would gasoline had gotten onto our victim, his fuel tank was partially full, and he isn't a volunteer firefighter."

"As I've said before and will say many times in the future, that is not my job." Hodges huffed and walked back to his lab.

Catherine turned and, seeing Sara there, said with much annoyance, "Can you believe him?"

Sara stood there frozen, not reacting to Catherine's angry stomping down the hall nor her earlier exclamation. _Gasoline…_ The house had been burned down with, is it here, yes, Hodges's results from earlier… "Gasoline," she whispered.

_Could the crime scenes be connected? Or what is just a coincidence that gasoline has been found at two different places on the same night? But the ingredients are the same…_

While her brain scoured through all the information, Sara decided that the coffee was a good idea after all.

"Okay, Archie, you'd better have good news."

"Hodges dampen your mood?"

Catherine nodded slightly. "Something like that."

"Alrighty then, c'mere and be elated."

Catherine looked over the AV tech's shoulder as the footage played on the bright screen in front of her, computer software dotting the other ones. A black SUV came out of the lower left hand corner and stopped at the stoplight, confirming the witness's story, but only just, as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere and didn't want anything hindering his route, most likely policemen.

"Were you able to get the license plate number?"

"Now, Catherine, I can't believe you'd doubt my awesome powers over these computers." Archie smirked.

"Show me the license number and my doubts shall vanish."

Archie hit a few keys and the camera zoomed in to a blurry image of the license plate. After a second, the image cleared, showing the number to be 7GP908.

"But that's not all I found. Watch this." The video continued, and as it played through, Catherine's mouth opened wider and wider, until her face held the likeness of that of a fish.

"The man got out of the car and checked the guy's pulse, but didn't call 9-1-1? If anything it would've been better for him."

"Yeah, weird," Archie agreed. "I tried getting a shot of his face, but he keeps his head down constantly, almost as if he knows the camera's there." But Catherine shook her head.

"No, look at his posture, Arch. His back is slumped, his eyes downcast, dark jacket with the collar pulled up. I think he's just antisocial by nature, he might even have some sort of mental illness."

Archie nodded. "Okay, so what was a mentally ill guy doing speeding on the highway late last night?"

"I dunno, but I'm gonna find out."

"Whoa, dude, calm down! I'm- I'm with LVPD, I'm- Hey, come on, put that lamp down, there's no need to get- hey!"

The lamp crashed against the curtains in front of which Greg had been standing moments before.

"Shaggy!"

Greg uncovered his head from his position on the floor and saw Jolie glaring at the big blond man whom she had just called "Shaggy." Aware the he was blushing raspberry red, Greg got up slowly, glancing over at Shaggy a couple times to make sure he wasn't going to throw anything more lethal at him.

"Shaggy, it's all right. He's not going to hurt you." Jolie's voice seemed to calm him down, but the blond man's eyes still held a look of disbelief. Greg remained silent, fearful that if he made a sound Shaggy would instantly become that angry bear-like monster.

Nick stepped up, his arm outstretched with he gun resting casually in his hands. "Now-Shaggy, is it? - You're gonna have to calm down now, or else I'll have no choice but to use my gun, and I don't wanna do that."

Shaggy's eyes drifted over to Jolie, who nodded, and as soon as he lowered his fists she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"I'm so sorry, Greg, he usually isn't like this. Shaggy, did you take your meds this morning?"

Greg expected a growl or at least a whimper to escape the man's mouth, but instead he spoke in a crisp, sophisticated tone, "Yeah, but this guy snuck up on me!" He jabbed a thin, delicate finger at Greg, whose hands were up in front of his chest as a defense mechanism.

Jolie put her arms around Shaggy's shoulders, and his snarl relaxed into a smile, but his eyes were glued on Greg, still filled with that same distrust. Jolie cast a worried glance in Greg's direction, and walked Shaggy out the door, past the unarmed Nick, and back into her office, the whole time whispering, "It'll be okay, it'll be okay." Greg wasn't sure if she was talking to Shaggy or herself.

**STARKID TONIGHT! SOOOO excited, my friend and I have been waiting on this day for so long, and now it's finally here, I can't believe it! And this chapter is like a late thanksgiving turkey, but I hope I didn't burn it. :p But please read and review with what you think of it!**


	5. Chapter 5

Cocoa beans emanated a soft, bittersweet smell as Sara lifted the cup of Blue Hawaiian up to her face. Greg thought he hid it well, but she always managed to find it. Where he hides his porn, now that was a question she never wanted, or needed, to know the answer to. _The gasoline was the same on both victims…_

But that could have loads of different explanations. Maybe he filled his car up and had some trouble, maybe they both worked for a gas company. DNA results hopefully will at least tell who he was. Good thing DNA survives fires.

"Sara? I have your results." Wendy's voice permeated Sara's thoughts and brought a great sense of relief upon her.

"Anything good?" Sara asked.

"I got a match on your burned victim. Name's Aaron Swanson. Only living relative is his sister, Jolie, who works at UNLV."

Sara froze for a second. "UNLV? Don't Greg and Nick have a dead teacher there?"

Wendy shrugged. "Maybe. They haven't brought me any evidence yet, so I'm not sure."

As Wendy turned and headed back to her lab, Sara's mind mulled over the details. Grissom always said that there's no such thing as coincidences. Believing in her husband's words, Sara jumped into her car and drove toward UNLV.

The office was simple, decorated with a desk, a chair behind it, and two in front. There were windows behind the desk which showed an excellent view of the miniature Eiffel Tower of the Paris Las Vegas hotel. A Monet painting hung on the wall, but that was it for decorations.

The man sitting in the chair, however, was anything but simple. He was wearing a three-piece suit, complete with a black tie. His black hair was gelled straight back, and a single gold ring glinted on his pinky finger on his left hand.

"Good day, Catherine Willows." He said as the CSI entered the room. His voice was low and added to his regal image.

"Good day, Mr. Simm."

"Please, call me Roger." Roger flashed a toothy smile her way. Catherine gave him a quick, polite one in return.

"Mr Simm," she started pointedly, "do you know this man?" She passed a picture towards him of the man in the video.

After a moment, he said, "Yes, that's Robert Claude; he's a patient of mine. Why, had something happened to him?"

Catherine steadied her voice before responding. "Not exactly. We believe he may be involved in a homicide."

Roger's smile faltered for a moment, and his hands balled into fists. "A homicide, you say? Well, I must disagree, Robert is one of the nicest, if somewhat mentally challenged, men I've ever met.

Catherine furrowed her eyebrows. "Mentally challenged how?"

"Well, he's got some…anger management issues. But," he hastily continued as Catherine opened her mouth, "we've been working on that. He's become quite good at holding back. Even got a steady job."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Where?"

"UNLV, as an English teacher's assistant. I believe her name is Miss Swanson."

Catherine had to stifle a gasp of surprise. What were the odds that her case was connected to Nick and Greg's? "Thank you, Mr. Simm," she said quickly, before hurrying out into the hall and dialing Nick's number.

Shaggy sat in the chair twitching, the whole time twiddling his thumbs and glancing around the room, but never focusing on one thing. Of course, his eyes most often strayed toward Jolie, who was sitting on the opposite side of the room and speaking with the two CSIs. Every time he looked their way, the kid who was snooping around would glance back at him. It's like he had the sixth sense. With the way he was looking at Jolie…

"Kid's gonna mess everything up." Shaggy mumbled quietly to himself. The kid glanced back at him once, and Shaggy quickly looked down at the floor. The last thing he needed at the moment was for Jolie to think him mentally insane.

The bell rang in the distant hallway, and a few kids paused by Jolie's doorway. After the fourth time, Nick strode over and firmly closed the door. The bloodstain was still faint on the ground, but at least it wasn't as bad as when David had first taken the body away. But even so, the kids didn't need to see that.

"Are you guys going to stay here much longer, I really must get back to my teaching."

Nick and Greg exchanged a glance. "What?" She asked the worry evident in her voice. "Why can't I go teach my students?"

Nick gave Greg a pointed look. It was his turn. The younger man sighed. "We think that whoever killed Mr. Michaels may also want to kill you."

Jolie's eyes widened and she put a hand to her forehead. Greg stepped forward to catch her if necessary. "It'll be alright, but we think it's better if one of us takes you home for now."

Shaggy gave a start and quickly stood up. "As Miss. Swanson's assistant, I think I should be the one to take her back-"

"No, Shaggy."

"Oh come on, you can trust me-"

"No!" Jolie raised her voice just enough for Shaggy to understand she was serious, but not loud enough to attract attention.

"Greg can take you home, Miss. Swanson, and I'll drive your assistant back home."

"Yes, thank you." She put her hand to her forehead again and allowed Greg to steer her into a nearby chair.

"By the way, what's your name, Shaggy?" Nick asked.

The blond-haired man gave the CSI a glare, but replied, "Robert. Robert Claude."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Jolie and Robert Claude.**

** I changed something in the previous chapter: Catherine learns where Claude works and gets up to call Nick.**

As Sara counted the room numbers leading to Miss. Swanson's office, she could hear voices. One sounded like Nick's Texan accent, but she wanted to be sure before yelling out his name just to be embarrassed when it wasn't him. A few feet later, however, she heard Greg's voice as well. Sara couldn't make out the words, but his voice sounded soft, consoling. Usually she heard his tenacious, flirty voice, but this one seemed to come to him just as naturally. The brunette drew in a breath, and, hoping her bad news would not be too much for Miss. Swanson, knocked on the door.

The door, since it had been slightly open, swung open from the mere force of the knocking. Sara was greeted with eight eyes staring at her, three pairs of which were from men. The final pair was that of a young woman. Dark brown hair accentuated her face and her bright blue eyes, both of which seemed to be able to stare a man to death. Sara knew that she would never want to get into a staring match with this woman; she'd certainly lose.

The CSI cleared her throat. "Miss Swanson?"

The only other woman in the room answered, "Yes?"

"There's…there's something I need to tell you-"

"No!" The explosive statement from Robert stunned everyone in the room, including himself, it seemed, for he seemed to draw back slightly into his own shell. "No…I need to take Jolie home. Mickey's murder, it's been hard, you know, and she needs rest-"

"Thank you, Robert, but this woman looks like she has something important to tell me." Jolie narrowed her eyes at her assistant who sunk further into his shell at her glare.

"Miss Swanson, I'm so sorry for your loss, but…I've come here to tell you that your brother…he's dead."

Jolie's face paled and she looked as though she might faint. Greg placed a hand on her back and she leaned into him.

"My…my only brother…dead…he's always there for me." She bit back tears. "Was always there for me."

"Shhh," Greg whispered. "Want me to take you home, now?"

A few tears began to leak out. Jolie stopped fighting, but wiped her tears nonetheless.

_A strong woman, _thought Nick. _Too stubborn to let any sign of weakness show._ He gave a small smile at Jolie leaning into Greg. _Then again…perhaps she is letting her guard down a little bit._

A shrill ringing cut off Nick's train of thought. He motioned to Greg and Sara and went into the corner to answer it. The others remained respectfully silent, Jolie's sobs occasionally breaking the silence. She turned her head into Greg's chest in an attempt to stop her sobs, but her shaking shoulders gave her away. Greg wrapped his arms around her, whispering calming words into her ear. Robert glared at the pair, his hands curling into fists and his teeth bared slightly. Sara stood near the doorway, silently watching the scene and waiting for Nick to finish his call.

_If it's Catherine, then all our cases might be connected… _She glanced at Robert. _But would Robert have been able to pull off arson and a murder if he's the criminal…_

"You don't say? All right, I'll tell them. Thanks, Catherine." Nick ended the call and took a deep breath before turning.

"Sara, can I speak to you in private seeing as Greg's a little…occupied." He took Sara out into the hallway.

"Nick…is it what I think it is?"

"Probably. That guy, Claude, he was seen speeding and he's Catherine's hit-and-run suspect. Maybe our murderer…and possibly even your arsonist."

**Very short this time, I know, but for some reason writer's block has snuck up on me and won't go away…might be because I have a new story each week for my Creative Writing class, hmm…the writer's part of my brain might be just a tad tired…**


	7. Chapter 7

The road was filled with cars even though it was the middle of the day. The Vegas sun was beating down upon those unlucky enough to have no air-conditioning, and gratifying those who wished to get a nice tan. The pavement seemed to smoke from the heat, and some people cracked some eggs in a pan and left it outside for an hour or two, coming back to find their eggs fully cooked. Earlier that day Greg had put some cookies to bake under his windshield, but he quickly removed them before Jolie could see prior to their departure from UNLV. She probably wouldn't have seen them anyways, given that she had kept her eyes down the whole time in an attempt to hide her tears.

Greg eased out of the parking lot without saying a word, but then realized he had no idea where Jolie lived.

"You know, I've just realized, I have no clue as to where you live. And yet, here I am, driving you…somewhere." Jolie glanced at Greg's broad smile and cracked one herself before looking back out of her window.

"55 Lake Street."

"But that area's incredibly dangerous. What are you doing, living all the way out there by yourself?"

Jolie shrugged. "I wasn't there very often. I would usually stay at…at Aaron's house…you know, to make sure he would stay home…" Tears began to flow again. "I'm sorry, I'm such a mess-"

"Don't be. It's fine." He took one of her hands and gave it a comfortable, reassuring squeeze. "Everything will be all right, you'll see."

Jolie smiled. "Thank you, Greg. I'm glad-" She wasn't able to finish her sentence as a car slammed into them.

Nick walked into the interrogation room and dropped Claude's file onto the table. He pulled out the chair so that it squeaked across the floor and sat down, never taking his eyes off of the suspect.

"Tell me, Robert, where were you yesterday when this happened?" As he was talking, Nick pushed a picture of Aaron's burnt house towards the man. Robert picked it up, his hands trembling, and then promptly dropped the picture onto the table.

"She…she was cheating on me. He'd come in, sometimes…brown hair, like hers, except shorter…green eyes, different from her blue ones. Hers seemed to resonate hope, while his only made me feel hatred."

"Okay, okay, so you didn't like the guy." Nick took out the next picture. "What about yesterday morning? Where were you when Mickey Michaels was murdered?" Something was lost from Robert's eyes, a kind of understanding, and then they flashed and he began speaking in a monotone, almost as if he'd had to memorize a speech and now just had to get it over with.

"He was giving Jolie dirty looks; I couldn't let him hurt her. So I walked into his office yesterday morning and I stabbed him."

Nick leaned back and studied him. "Where did you dispose of your bloody clothes? When did you find the time?"

Robert looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. A faint "what" escaped his mouth.

"Your clothes." Nick said with more emotion. "They would have been covered with blood, where did you hide them?"

"I- I don't remember, I can't remember, I-" And then he was banging his fists against the table, screaming "I don't remember!" over and over again.

Nick jumped out of his chair as the security guards latched onto Claude and dragged him away to his cell, his red outfit sitting on his frame limply.

"Well that was…unexpected." Nick said to Catherine as she came in.

"Yeah, but did you hear his voice? It's almost like he'd been trained to say those words, to throw suspicion off of whoever had actually committed those crimes."

"Now, you don't think-"

"I honestly don't think Robert Claude is capable of that. I mean, I know he's got anger management issues, so the arson is a possibility, an impulsive action, but murder?"

"Yeah, all right. So if he's not the murderer, who is?"

"Catherine? Nick? I've got a call for you."

Catherine turned to see Mitch standing in the doorway, his walkie-talkie in hand. "But we're in the middle-"

"It's connected. Greg Sanders has just been in a car accident. And a woman named Jolie Swanson was in the car with him."

"Oh my god…" Catherine whispered as Nick clenched his fists in anger and attempted to keep himself from punching the table.

**Right, writer's block, so nice to see you again. :P**


	8. Chapter 8

His ears rang and his side hurt like hell. That was Greg's first coherent thought as his bruised brain awakened. Through the blurriness that he called his vision, he saw Jolie slumped in the passenger seat. Without thinking, he jerked his right arm towards her to see if she was all right, but stopped short as a burst of pain shot up his body.

"Jolie," he whispered. Her head turned slightly to the side and he exhaled in relief. His brain then switched to calling for help. The crash must have alerted someone, but his rational thinking had not kicked in yet. Greg attempted to move his body so he could grab the radio. His left arm did not send as much pain blasting through his body as his right arm, so he stretched towards the radio. His fingertips brushed the communication device that earlier had sat by his side, ever faithful, but now it seemed to stare at him mockingly. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes for a moment before forcing them open again. Falling asleep again would be the only thing worse than getting knocked out in the first place. He could faintly hear cars honking and he was 57% sure someone was yelling.

Then he felt someone right beside his head. A few shards of glass rained down on his torso. He could feel their breath on his neck, and he kept his eyes open at the floor. _Gun, gun where's the- there! _His left arm was lying on his stomach, but he was sure moving would attract the strange person's attention. Finally, he felt the hot breath move away and he jerked towards the gun. His body, held back by the seatbelt, didn't budge. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man moving in front of the windshield toward the other side of the car. His eyes widened and he forced his right arm to stretch. The pain shot up his arm once again, and it felt as if a burning knife had just sliced through his entire arm. Greg was partially surprised that he didn't see blood dripping down his arm.

His fingers traced the gun's edges, but couldn't get a grip. The seatbelt refused to budge. The strange man had gotten to Jolie's side and attempted to open the door. Neither Jolie nor the door budged. Greg thanked whoever was listening in his mind and continued to reach for the gun. Somehow, Jolie's window had remained mostly intact, probably because the car had rammed into the driver's side. Greg had no idea how he was alive, and then he tried to move his leg.

That was his first mistake, as it caused him more pain than it would seem for a woman giving birth. His second was screaming in pain. The man looked up and saw Greg's face upturned in a grimace of pain. A moment later, Greg's brown eyes met the man's green eyes; they were flashing from all of the adrenaline.

Greg forced himself up on his side and tried to reach the radio again, but stopped when he saw that the man was holding a gun to Jolie's head.

"You move and she dies." Greg thought it was funny that the man wasn't wearing a mask. Then the realization dawned on him that the man didn't expect him to survive.

With this thought rolling through his head, Greg lurched forward and grabbed the thing that was closest to him. He felt a cold handle fit into his hand, and he leaned back and pulled the trigger before the stranger could react.

A blast of heat exploded onto the gun as it jerked back into Greg's hand. His arm instantly fell to his side, throbbing more painfully than ever. As he stared at the floor of the bar, certain that this was where he would die, or at least pass out, from the torrential pain, he felt a hand cradling his cheek. Greg slowly moved his head up to see Jolie looking down at him with all the love in the world. Her eyes shone, and their brilliance took Greg's glance away from the cuts on her face.

The police sirens brought his mind back to pain, and he gritted his teeth and dropped his head. Jolie wrapped her arms around him, careful not to aggravate his arm. She didn't dare look at what was on the pavement behind her.

Greg heard someone calling his name, and felt a gentle hand on the back of his neck. The scent of lemons wafted into his nose.

"Sara," he breathed.

"Greg, you're going to be alright. C'mon, let's get you out of here so Jolie can leave as well." Considering Greg could only move the left side of his body without feeling immense agony, the process of extracting him from the car was a painful one. Jolie had ended the experience with a broken ankle and a concussion. As soon as she was out of the car, she said a prayer thanking whoever it was that had allowed their car to be immobile when the crash had occurred, and that because it was an intersection, the other car had not been going as quickly as it could have been.

Catherine walked around to the other side of the demolished car, but had to do a double-take. Lying in his own blood before her feet, a bullet hole beside his nose was Roger Simm.

"Nick, you're in charge until I get back." Her eyes were wide and unblinking.

"Cath, where're you going?" Nick turned to his colleague with a raised eyebrow.

"I've got a hunch."

The office was quiet when Catherine entered it. It was a nice change from the pale-faced secretary that kept telling Catherine that "Mr. Simm was out at the moment, but he'll be back shortly." It was almost like she was a record player, parroting back everything that Roger had most likely told her to say.

"Ms…" Catherine had squinted at the receptionist's name tag. "Ms. Carlson, Mr. Simm is dead. He isn't going to be back at all." She had walked past the secretary whose jaw had fallen all the way to the floor.

The office was sparkling clean, the exact same as when she had last been here. Except this time, there was no unctuous man sitting behind the grand, mahogany desk. She hurriedly put on her latex gloves and opened the top drawer in the desk. Empty. The one beneath it contained nothing but some pencils and a few pieces of paper.

_There's no way Robert could have killed Mickey…and why had Roger been trying to shoot Greg and Jolie? Unless she'd guessed that Robert wasn't guilty…and had gone to confront Roger about it…_

Catherine let out a sigh and stretched her back while looking around the room. As her eyes passed a bookcase, she did a double take. Something was between Dream Psychology and A Magician's Guide to Hypnotism. The blonde walked up to the bookcase, and stuck her hand into the dark space. What came out was most definitely not a book. At first glance, it looked like a simple board game. Catherine's eyes widened as she opened the box.

Papers were strewn about inside with what seemed to be nonsense scribbled on them. As she rifled through them, her eyes grew larger and larger. One piece of paper had some legible handwriting, and Catherine was able to make out that Shaggy had written his name on the top. Then there was nothing but a mess of lines until she came to the word "kill." Catherine hurriedly put the box down on the table and took out more papers. At the bottom of the pile, she found a gold watch that wasn't ticking. Next to it, a piece of paper had handwriting that was completely different from the other ones.

My dearest Clara,

Hypnotism had failed, but do not fret. I can easily clean up the oaf's mess. If the idiot wasn't paying me good money, I'd have dropped his case long ago. When he burned the house down I thought that he was finally becoming more understanding. After all, I'd convinced him that if he killed all the men in Jolie's life, she would go running into his arms. but evidently, I was severely mistaken. With Michaels out of the way, I shall be the one to inherit his life insurance. No one has found out that he is my half-brother, and I am entitled to two million dollars. Killing is a terrible sin, but I hope that you will forgive me. With that money, we will both be able to retire comfortably, and we will be able to cure you of your cancer. I am sure of it. We will be happy together, my dear.

I love you dearly.

Roger

**I am so sorry this story has taken so long. When I first began, I had so many ideas about where it could go, but then I grew lazy and my muse kinda left me. I do hope this chapter was not too terrible, and thank you very much for sticking with me through my first chapter fic. I hope my next one shall not be as bad nor have such long hiatuses between chapters. And I hope you all had a very happy New Year!**


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